FAME!
by Sweet Tart Mush's Goil
Summary: Based on the 80's tv show FAME! A group of teenage performers attend the School of the Performing Arts in New York! Complete with our lovable Newsies and some original characters! Rated T just in case.
1. Prologue

**FAME **

**Prologue: Remember My Name**

_A/N: Howdi one and all! Tis I, Sweet Tart, back with a new fic! The basic plot outline is slightly stolen from FAME (a super cool 80's show). A group of talented teens attend the School of Peforming Arts in new York, but this has Newsies which makes it much more fun! I sent out a CC for it a little while ago, but if anyone is still interested, CC info is down below! So read, review and ENJOY!_

**Baby look at me **

**And tell me what you see **

**You ain't seen the best of me yet**

** Give me time I'll make you forget the rest**

**I got more in me **

**And you can set it free **

**I can catch the moon in my hands**

** Don't you know who I am**

Somewhere, in New York City is a school. This isn't your typical school. Sure, there is a cafeteria, English classes and annoying teachers, but I don't know of many schools where you can find students playing instruments for leisure, movie scenes acted out on lunch tables or where leotards and tights are a regular fashion. This is the School of the Performing Arts, a place where the unique and talented go to flourish and train for their chosen careers. However, don't think of it all as fun and games. Not only are they attending all the classes of a regular student, but they spend every waking moment practicing their talent. There are the normal divisions, triumphs, joys and failures, but the students must learn to be more than their gift and find a courage and strength inside of them to truly become an artist.

**I'm gonna live forever **

**I'm gonna learn how to fly **

**High **

**I feel it coming together **

**People will see me and cry **

**Fame**

Mush Meyer's eyes quietly surveyed the room around him, the dark walls, the dirty floor, the windows that were barred with sheets of coarse wood. He was finally leaving it all behind. Something inside Mush was telling him that he should be a little emotional to be leaving. After all, he had lived in that small apartment since he was an infant. He could never bring himself to call it home. The place where he and his family had all once lived together had turned into his own place only two years previous, and even though Mush was only seventeen, he found himself living alone. His father had died when Mush was very young, and his brother had been in jail since he was ten. Mush's mom, well, he had called her to tell her that he was accepted to the school for his dancing, but he couldn't tell through her slur if she understood him. Even though he had seen things that most seventeen year olds could not boast about, Mush was always the same happy-go-lucky guy, a little naïve and gullible, but sweet and kind hearted. He was the youngest of the boys in his building, and his optimistic nature had earned him the nickname of Mush (shortened from Mush-for-brains). But, the boys always had his back, though they were less than thrilled to hear that Mush was going of to an Arts school to be a dancer.

"A dancer?! Oh boy, what has happened to you, Mushy?! A twinkle toes dancer?!"

Mush's pals all seemed to cry in unison, bursting with laughter and disbelief. Mush just flashed his good-natured smile.

"Yes, for the millionth time, a dancer."

"You must be crazy man. It's all gonna be tights and ballet!"

Mush shook his head, but before he could cut in, his friends continued.

"You ain't neva gonna fit in with those stuck up art students! They know you don't belong there, and you do too. They are gonna walk all over you, and you little Mush-for-brains, is just gonna lie down and take it, and kiss their asses while your at it!"

Mush sighed again, part of him exasperated, but part of him fearful.

"What if they're right? What if they do walk all over me…"

He thought quietly to himself. His friends sensed his disbelief.

"You just gotta do no more Mr. Nice Mush, okay! You always are worryin' about everyone liking you! Don't! You ain't there to make friends, you are there to dance!"

This brought Mush to where he was right now. He practiced his mean face in the mirror all week. Mush was a nice guy by nature, but no one else needs to know that. Dancing was his life, and he would do anything it took to achieve that dream. If having no friends at his new school was the price to pay, then so be it.

**I'm gonna make it to heaven **

**Light up the sky like a flame **

**Fame**

"Ginger Larson, what are ya waitin' for? A private invitation?! Ya get your buns down here if you wanna be at your artsy-fartsy little school on time!"

A frazzled looking woman with greying hair bellowed as she tried in vain to pull apart a pair of fighting boys.

"Hold on a minute, ma! I'll be right there!"

A voice holding the same thick Bronx accent belonging to the frazzled women came from down the hall behind a closed door. Ginger Larson stood before a full-length mirror, sucking in her stomach and admiring her new towering frame, credited to the fact that she was wearing a pair of shockingly yellow high-heel pumps. Anyone who stopped to look at or speak to Miss Ginger Larson would easily tell you there was nothing plain about the most peculiar young lady. Just by appearances, one would never label her as typical. Sans the heels, Ginger was a mere five foot even with a slightly curvy figure and tiny feet. Her curly, orange hair was wild and did whatever it pleased, not like Ginger minded. Her emerald green eyes were large and orb like, her cheeks round and covered in freckles. As well, she had an odd fetish for hats and was usually wearing one, whether it be fedora, beret or sombrero. But, looking in the mirror, all Ginger could see was average.

"Not anymore."

She whispered defiantly to herself. Ever since she had received her acceptance letter for the School of the Performing Arts, Ginger had found more in herself to criticize and hate. Being accepted was only the beginning. No munchkin girl from the Bronx was ever going to amount to anything. Unless she changed.

"No more plain Ginger Larson. Not at the School of the Performing Arts. The real Ginger is glamorous and interesting! The real Ginger is an actress!"

"If I was you, I'd go with sneakers. You're less likely to break your ankle and we're less likely to lose our eyesight."

Ginger whipped around, teetering dangerously on her heels. Unfortunately for her, her beloved neighbour had taken the opportunity to climb down the fire escape and into Ginger's open bedroom window. Ginger wobbled as best, and most fearsomely, as she could until she was eye to eye with the offender.

"It's a bit early for Christmas, Higgins the Elf. Besides, I ain't got a chimney."

Racetrack snorted. He may not have been a giant, but he was still a whole two inches taller than Ginger. Ginger continued with her rant.

"Besides, haven't you creeps at da North Pole ever heard of knockin'?"

"Should I have to knock if I'm bringin' an early Christmas present?!"

Racetrack grinned proudly, but Ginger raised a cautious eyebrow.

"A, yes! It is common courtesy. B, I am intrigued. And C, 'dis better not be another pull my finger joke!"

Ginger and Racetrack had been neighbours and classmates since the age of seven. Their love/hate relationship bloomed the day Ginger and her family had moved in. She had barely been in her new room for five minutes when a sprightly young Italian had snuck in through her window and sprayed her with a water-gun (Ginger retaliating by stealing his pants and pushing him back out the window). It had been the same ever since then. Race would crawl in Ginger's window, Ginger would insult him and then Race would tell a stupid joke. Good times had by all.

"Please, Ginger! Pull my finger? That is an insult to my creative genius!"

Race put a hand over his heart and flopped dramatically onto Ginger's bed. Ginger rolled her eyes and sighed, taking a seat beside her friend. He was feigning his best 'dead' face. Ginger took the opportunity to kick off her heels and poke Race mercilessly with them.

"Spill the beans, Higgins! I ain't got all day!"

Race sat up with lightening speed, his face breaking into a rat-like grin.

"I thought you'd neva ask!"

Race paused and took a dramatic breath (and ended up choking…on the air). Ginger sighed deeply and pushed him off the bed. It was impossible for Racetrack just to say something; it was always a production.

"I'm okay! I'm okay!"

He wheezed from somewhere on the floor. Ginger rose and stepped over his small frame.

"You'll have to tell me later, Higgins. I think I hear my mom barking again!"

"But my brother, he has the car! Since we both got accepted, I figured there was no sense in you and your mom taking the train all the way there!"

Race and Ginger had both auditioned for the school the previous winter, and both had gotten accepted as comedic drama majors. And, as much as Ginger loved her mom, she would not pass up a chance to avoid the whole teary good-bye. Race grinned knowingly as he headed for the window.

"Be down at my place in five! Merry early Christmas, Ginger!"

**I'm gonna live forever**

** Baby remember my name**

"Dave! David Jacobs!"

A cheerful, excited voice came from behind David, causing him to jump over a foot in the air. He whirled around (nearly losing his balance) to see a familiar face.

"Chloe Cormac! How was your summer?

"Awesome, Davey! Hey, have you seen Jack Kelly?"

"Hello to you too! And no, I haven't."

Thus went most exchanges between David and Chloe, who had nothing much in common besides the fact that both of their best friends were Jack Kelly. The two first met when David, who was experiencing a little 'love at first site' shock, tripped over his own feet and landed in his macaroni and cheese. Chloe helped him up and gave him her napkin. The whole rest of the year he had followed her around like a lovesick puppy, not like she noticed much. Chloe Cormac had made it quite clear to any boy who asked her on a date that she was going to be a Broadway star, and no boy was going to get in the way. So, Dave felt it best to admire her from afar. That was until the day that Chloe and Jack Kelly, David's best friend, were forced together for a school project. Chloe was a double major of dance and musical theatre who needed someone to write a song for a number she was going to be in at a school performance. Jack was a music major who spent all his spare time writing music and desperately wanted a way to get it to the public. Voila! A match made in heaven, though Jack almost declined because he thought it was too 'commercial'. Soon, the three were spending everyday together and David's wild crush had toned down to…well, a wild crush he was a little more 'in check' about, though his clumsiness had not completely disappeared when in the gaze of Chloe Cormac.

"Should we…find him? I mean, I could help you, if you want."

Chloe grinned.

"I'd love that! Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you! I have really big news for him!"

She announced digging around in her over-sized bag that looked like once it could have possibly been a beach-ball. David had spent more than a few sleepless nights trying to put his finger on why exactly he liked Chloe Cormac, finally settling on the fact that she was like no one he had ever met before. First of all, saying she was pretty was an understatement. Chloe was tall and thin, a lithe dancer's body, with fair skin and a chipper smile. Though she denied any Irish heritage in her blood, her eyes were the brightest green David had ever seen, and her shoulder-gracing red hair was nothing short of stunning. To sum Chloe up in a few words is near impossible, but one may settle on talented, persistent, hard-working and ambitious. But what David loved most about her was her confidence, which is something Chloe had in spades. She had no inhibitions about being her own person and doing what she wanted to do, especially when it came to fashion. David looked over her outfit, which the rainbow of colours was near blinding, but his eyes settled on a long dark blotch running down her pants. A new trend, no doubt.

"Chloe, nice uh…stripe?"

David said politely, pointing to her jeans. Chloe moaned.

"So it is that noticeable?! I just got these yesterday, but some blonde airhead pushed me and made me spill my coffee all over myself."

Chloe was good at putting on the dramatics. She started batting her eyelashes, twirling her hair around her finger and fanning herself with another hand, filling her voice with an over-exaggerated southern accent.

"Dear me, I am terribly sorry! Didn't even see ya there! I spend so much time milkin' cows on Old MacDonald's Farm that I completely forgot how to walk!"

Dave chuckled in spite of himself and felt his old affections for Chloe swell up inside him.

"Come on, I'll buy you a new coffee, then we can go find Jack"

**Baby hold me tight **

**Cause you can make it right **

**You can shoot me straight to the top **

**Give me love and take all I've got to give **

**Baby I'll be tough **

**Too much is not enough **

**I'll grab your heart til it breaks **

**Ooo I got what it takes**

Rose Hamilton was a lucky girl. Unfortunately, it was not the luck most people would yearn for. Ever since Rose had arrived in New York from her home town of Santa Fe, a black cloud of bad luck had been following her around, and anything that could possibly go wrong did! Her taxi from the airport had gotten her hopelessly lost, prompting her to walk twenty-five blocks from where it had let her off to the school, wearing down her brand new shoes that her dad had given her as a good-bye present. Once she had finally made it into the school, a brightly dressed young lady had come wheeling out of a door (which Rose will still attest to you that the door was never there before), running straight into Rose. The girl spilled her own hot coffee all over her own new pants. Rose sulked off, but not before the girl had, quite publicly, announced Rose's clumsiness. So, Rose was now seated on her hard bed, head in her hands.

"I don't belong in New York."

She moaned. Rose had been so sure of herself back in Santa Fe. She had been a dancer since the age of three, taking classes ranging in everything from ballet to African jazz and Latin ballroom to the Jitterbug. Rose was a modest girl, but confidence was always something she had had, well, until that morning. Now the one thing in Rose's life that she had always been so sure of was filled with uncertainty. And that scared Rose more than anything.

"I'm going for a walk!"

She announced anxiously to the empty room around her. Rose scurried as quickly as she could to get out of the room. Slowly walking down the hallway, she prayed she would be able to find her way back to her room. It wasn't even noon and Rose already felt like her day was ruined. She made her way down a darkened hallway, praying to avoid anyone and everyone, especially anyone with a cup of coffee. Then, it suddenly came to her, drifting down the once silent hallway. Loud dance music came pumping through the walls. Rose couldn't help herself. Her feet led the way, dancing down the hallway, closer to that sound. Closing her eyes, she twirled down the hallway. Rose just kept dancing until suddenly…the music stopped. Rose opened her eyes with a start. She was standing in front of a window, and inside sat a young man behind a synthesizer, wearing a huge grin on his face. Rose saw her reflection go beat red. The boy waved and rose, opening the door to come talk to her. Rose didn't want to talk, she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"Hi."

She said meekly. The boy laughed.

"Hi. You know, your reaction is not the kind I'm used to getting when people here my music, but thank-you so much for…dancing! It's nicer than booing and tomatoes!"

He laughed again.

"Damn it, he's cute too! He probably thinks I'm a lunatic!"

She thought to herself.

"I have to go."

Rose muttered the same time that the boy said:

"I'm Jack Kelly!"

He outstretched his hand and Rose reluctantly accepted it.

"Rose Hamilton."

"Rose, pretty name! It's a shame you have to go, I was just about to practice another song. I could use a dancer!"

He winked, causing Rose to blush even deeper.

"Oh, too bad."

Rose laughed nervously.

"See you around, Jack."

Jack watched her, with a sigh, run out of the hallway almost as fast as she had danced in. He thought she was anything but a lunatic. His day had been spent hiding alone in a room, perfecting his music when she came dancing into his life. He had never seen anyone more beautiful or mysterious. Jack was sad to see her go. He couldn't wait to see her again, and learn more about the mysterious dancer.

Rose grinned the entire way back to her room, deciding that if her face ever turned back to its original colour that she might make another visit down that hallway. She fiddled around in her pocket for her keys, but found her door already partially opened.

"Someone's robbing my place!"

Then she realized, with a laugh, that she was inside a school. She swung the door open and sauntered in.

"Hello?! Are you my new roommate?! My name is Rose Hamilton!"

She stopped when she found her new roommate, dancing jovially on top of Rose's neatly made bed. Rose's luck had officially gone from bad to worse. The girl stopped and glared.

"I'm Chloe Cormac and you got to be shittin' me!"

**Fame **

**I'm gonna live forever **

**I'm gonna learn how to fly**

** High I feel it coming together **

**People will see me and cry **

**Fame **

**I'm gonna make it to heaven**

** Light up the sky like a flame **

**Fame **

**I'm gonna live forever**

** Baby remember my name**

_A/N: So...what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Review! Chappy dedication to Knots and Trinket! This is for you! And here is the CC info. Thanks! CTB!_

_Name:  
Nickname:  
Age/Grade:  
Personality:  
Appearance:  
Major: (School of Performin Arts, so think drama, musical theatre, dance, etc)  
Boy: (No garuntees)  
Hometown:(I made this a boarding school, so you can come from basically anywhere:  
Pet Peeves:  
Strengths/Weaknesses:  
Anything Else:_


	2. What Is This Feeling?

Disclaimer: I shall only do this once...I own nothing, except for the Newsies...I own every single one! Take that Disney!

A/N: Well, here it is, the first official chapter of FAME! Are you excited? I know, tis I long hiatus, but since Summer is here I have rekindled a long lost love for this fic! So here is a new chappy with a twist...it's a song fic! Recognize the song? Send me the name of the artist and win Chapter 2 of FAME in your inbox one hour before I post it, as well as a song of your choice as the outline for a future FAME chappy! So, here we go...and a BIG BIG BIG THANK-YOU to everyone who reviewed/sent in a character, etc.! This chappy is a dedication to you guys!

**Chapter 1: What Is This Feeling?**

**  
**_**What is this feeling?  
So sudden and new?  
I felt it the moment I laid eyes on you:  
My pulse is rushing:  
My head is reeling:  
My face is flushing:  
What is this feeling?  
Fervid as a flame,  
Does it have a name?  
Yes!**_

**_Loathing _**

**_Unadulterated loathing _**

**_For your face _**

**_Your voice_**

**_Your clothing _**

**_Let's just say - I loathe it all _**

**_Ev'ry little trait, however small _**

**_Makes my very flesh begin to crawl _**

**_With simple utter loathing _**

**_There's a strange exhilaration _**

**_In such total detestation _**

**_It's so pure and strong!_**

**_  
Though I do admit it came on fast _**

**_Still I do believe that it can last _**

**_And I will be loathing_**

**_Loathing you _**

**_My whole life long!_**

**Breakfast**

Rose Hamilton's head drooped sleepily into her bowl of Cheerio's. She was barely aware that a smiling young man had slid into the seat opposite of her.

"Are you gonna eat those, or are they just a drowning hazard?"

Rose wiped her eyes sleepily and pushed the bowl away from her.

"I'm up! I'm up!"

She moaned with a yawn. The boy grinned.

"I'm guessing either a late night partying, or a pesky roommate."

"Let's just say I'm not the partying type."

Rose said with a laugh. The boy nodded knowledgably and stuck out his hand.

"David Jacobs! I know all about pesky roommates! I've seen it all, dancers insisting on late night practice, musicians celloing all hours of the night and actors who recite Shakespeare in their sleep!"

Rose smiled and accepted his hand.

"Rose Hamilton. My roomie spent the day sulking in the bathroom, the blasting the radio when I was trying to sleep and berating me with blonde jokes."

"Sounds like a piece of work."

Rose cringed at the recount of the past day.

"Well, I suppose it didn't help that the first time we met, I accidentally spilled hot coffee all over her."

"Hot coffee..."

David pondered in his head for a moment.

"No...couldn't be..."

He shook his head and patted Rose's hand comfortingly.

"Well, that would put a damper on your relationship..."

"I'm just so hopeless at this whole thing! I don't belong in New York, I belong back in Santa Fe!"

David sighed. In the three years he had been attending the school, at one point or another, all his friends had doubts, himself included.

"Well, you know that isn't true! They don't just let anyone in here. Come on, what's your major?"

Rose smile in spite of her self.

"Dance."

"See! And just look at the way your face lights up!"

He exclaimed, causing members from several neighbouring tables to turn and stare at the freckled young man.

"You just need to know your enemy! Once you can control your roommate, everything else will fall into place. Hey, maybe I could help you out with this whole thing!"

"That would be perfect! I need all the help I can get!"

Her eyes scanned the cafeteria around her, looking for the villainous roommate.

"I can't seem to find her..."

Rose's words by the cafeteria doors bursting open. In paraded the beloved roomie, dressed so brightly that she was shining like a Christmas tree. The whole cafeteria swivelled to get a good look at her. And, Rose wasn't quite sure, but she thought David swooned.

"Chloe Cormac..."

He sighed, his eyes clouding and a lovesick smile creeping across his face.

"That's her, that's my pesky roommate!"

Rose whispered excitedly. Dave looked from Chloe to Rose and back again before bursting into laughter. He raised his hands in defeat.

"I can't help ya!"

"But, but you said you had seen it all!"

Rose sputtered, but Dave just shook his head.

"Chloe, well...she's...different! She...she is extremely talented, no doubting that, but she bends the rules. She is extremely competitive. She...well, she just makes her own rules!"

David stood slowly and gathered his books. Rose wasn't going to let him get away that easily.

"But, you said you could help me! What am I supposed to do?"

Rose jumped up exasperatedly, but David shrugged.

"Get ear plugs?"

Rose frowned and gathered her own books. Dave sighed.

"Look, I'll come and find you at lunch. You'll do fine, I promise. Until then┘just try and stay on Chloe's good side. She is a good friend, but not the kind of girl you want as an enemy! Trust me!"

And with that, the odd boy was off, leaving Rose standing alone. She sighed and nodded solemnly, turning slowly to make her way out of the opposite set of doors. Her head was filled with the knowledgeable reasoning of David Jacobs, the strange boy, and the fear of her first day at the school of the arts. She didn't even notice the bright purple sneakers stretched out in front of her. Needless to say, Rose went flying, books and everything, landing flat on her face. The culprit, a brightly dressed girl with wild red hair and a wicked grin (and, as you have probably guessed, Rose's beloved roommate) laughed jovially.

"Honey, I hope YOU aren't a dance major. Every time I see you, you are tripping over your own feet!"

Rose's face flushed scarlet as she tried to make a speedy exit, followed by a chorus of have a nice trip and see you next fall, and Rose felt herself wishing that Dave had stuck around for a few extra minutes.

**Homeroom**

Mush (or, as he newly christened himself: Roger) rubbed his tired eyes in awe and disbelief as he stared at the legions of talented dancers before him from the safety of the doorway. Homeroom. Beginner's Ballroom.

"Mush, you are in way over your head!"

After one day, "Roger" had soon learned that he hated everything about the School of the Performing Arts; especially his chatty Italian roommate. Well, he hated almost everything-except for her. He didn't hate her, or at least not yet. "Roger" didn't even know her name, but he knew there was something different about her. After years of living alone, he had discovered that he was definitely not a people person. Perhaps that is why it came as such a shock when he walked into his dorm room for the first time; his little roommate was jumping on his bed, telling a series of bad jokes to that peculiar girl, who was sitting on Mush's bed, reading the newspaper ("What kinda chick reads da newspaper?" Mush had thought to himself.) Before "Roger" could say anything, the boy leapt off the bed and scurried over to him, throwing his arm around "Roger's" shoulders (by way of standing on tippy toe).

"My roommate! My buddy, my pal! My amigo!"

The little Italian had proclaimed enthusiastically, as if he had known Mush his entire life.

"He looks thrilled, Race."

The red-headed girl had mumbled, raising herself from the bed and tucking the newspaper under her arm.

"Well, I am off Race. I gotta go see if my roommate is in yet!"

Race removed his arm from Mush's shoulder to rub his hands together eagerly.

"Oh, I can't wait for ya to introduce us!"

The girl swatted at him and left; and Race didn't stop talking the entire night"

And there she was, in the classroom before him, leaning on the barre, a small crowd surrounding her. Even though he couldn't hear them, Mush could tell they were laughing. The bell rand and the crowd dispersed (not wanting to anger their dance teacher, the world famous Medda Larkson, on the first day). Summoning all the courage possible, Mush walked bravely into the classroom, making his way over to the girl, who quite possibly could be his first friend at the school.

"What do ya say to a chick, anyways?"

He pondered. Always a somewhat shy kid, Mush was never a ladies man and he had certainly never been able to hold a real conversation with any girl (other then his mother). However, he got an idea.

"You ain't Mush-for-brains anymore! You're Roger, and he can talk to anyone he wants, guy or girl!"

He mused, puffing out his chest and sauntering across the room. Roger was vaguely aware that he was definitely under-dressed, everyone wearing body suits and tights (Roger settling on his favourite pair of shorts and no shoes to speak of). The girl seemed out of place to, wearing hot pink tights and a matching top. With that red hair, it made her look like someone familiar┘

"Hey, Strawberry Shortcake! The kindergarten classes are down the street."

Roger could immediately tell that that was definitely not the right thing to say (though met with laughter from the rest of the dancers). For a moment, doubt and uncertainty flickered in the eyes of the young girl, but soon it was gone and was replaced by a look that had the inner Mush frightened for his life.

"A short joke, eh? Gee, haven't heard one of those before."

The class was silent, and Mush had a feeling he was about to regret his choice of words.

"Well, if you are going back to kindergarten with your sense of humour, I guess I can go back too."

And without another word, Mush felt his shorts being dropped to the floor, the class erupting into laughter over his nice tighty-whities. The girl grinned smugly, receiving many high-fives when┘

"What is going on in here?!?"

Enter Medda Larkson, dance teacher extraordinaire! And she did not look pleased.

"Out! Out of my class until you can both behave like you belong here!"

Mush sheepishly pulled up his shorts.

"Wait in my office. I will deal with you two later."

**Meanwhile...**

Jorja Rose Dominez sighed heavily, anxiously glancing at her own watch. Her head hurt from jet lag, and her flight was over fifteen hours late. Now she was stuck in...well, she couldn't quite remember anymore. The long flight from Madrid, Spain included many stops in many different countries, though she was pretty sure she was in America. Pretty sure.

"Hey gorgeous!"

A voice said. Jorja raised her eyes to see a crowd of young men passing by.

"Wanna join the mile high club?"

They snickered and wandered off. Jorja sneered after them.

"Gorgeous?"

She thought with a laugh. Her hair was black with blue streaks through it, her darks eyes haunting and mysterious; Jorja also had the right amount of curves to keep the boys attention. Gorgeous was definitely the right word to call Jorja Rose Dominez, though she would never believe it. When she looked in the mirror, all she saw were the scars, the scars which marked her strong dancer's body; the scars that no one could see, save for the one that began at her ear and twisted down her collar bone. Each scar a present from her dear uncle...

Jorja shook her head, trying to replace the image of that awful man in her head with something more pleasant. That was the past. She was going to New York. She was going to be a dancer. Suddenly remembering her destination, Jorja pulled her timetable from her bag and checked her watch, yet again. Giving her timetable a glance (though she didn't need to--she had it memorized) she noticed with a smile that she was missing her most loathed subject: Math.

"Hey! You're goin' to SPA too?"

A thick Irish accent announced, bringing Jorja out of her thoughts. Racing towards her was a slim girl in the most irregular type of dress: Torn blue jeans with holes in the knees so large that they revealed brightly patterned tights, a flannel sweater tied tightly around her petite waist and an over sized band t-shirt ("Who is Duran Duran..." Jorja found herself wondering).

"Yes?"

Jorja said shortly. She was an all around independent girl and wasn't too sure what to think of the strange new-comer. The girl didn't seem to notice. She plopped herself down beside Jorja on the airport bench and continued.

"Ah, me too! Well, supposed to anyway┘that is if our stupid plane ever gets to New York! Oh, is that your time table?"

The girl swiped the time table out of Jorja's hands and began to study it with great vigour. Jorja lept back slightly in surprise, not used to the idea that this strange girl (whom she had just met) was touching her personal posessions.

"I guess I'm not in Madrid anymore..."

She mused, still slightly shocked.

"Amber Perkins. Dance and musical theatre major."

The girl offered in response to Jorja's bewildered face.

"Amber? Um, I'm Jorja, Jorja Rose Dominez."

She spoke slowly, as if by telling this Amber girl her name would in turn reveal all her deepest, darkest secrets.

"So, you're a musical theatre major? Oh, ya gotta be!"

Amber announced, looking from Jorja to her timetable.

"Either that, or ya look like someone who would play the French horn..."

She added with a giggle, and Jorja laughed to, in spite of herself.

"Dance and musical theatre major. We probably even have some classes together!"

Jorja said, letting down her guarded exterior (just a little) to try and have some fun.

"New York may be a little different then I expected..."

**Back in the School of the Performing Arts...**

"This is kind of weird, isn't it? Mr. Pulitzer has never been late for a class, especially on the first day of school!"

David Jacobs mused dramatically, fingers thoughtfully raised over the pristine white keys of the piano he sat before.

"Maybe the old geezer finally decided to retire!"

Jack Kelly chuckled, pushing a piece of his chestnut brown hair out of his eyes. David just shook his head at his friend.

"Chloe's looking for you!"

He stated in a sing-song voice. Jack responded to this with a non-intelligible grunt. Dave took this as a sign to continue.

"She's got some great new ideas about the band. --That's why you're avoiding her, right?"

Jack let out a loud sigh.

"Jesus Dave, will ya lay off me?! You know as well as I do about this whole band..thing!! It was fine when we was just practicing back in the old arts building; alone, ya know? But, to actually go out and perform...our music ain't ready!"

He ended exasperatedly before adding:

"Besides, it's way to commercial!"

David's face broke into a sly smile.

"So, why don't ya just tell Chloe that?"

The two boys both broke into laughter at the ridiculous notion.

"Davey, ya know that once dat goil's got her heart set on something, there is no saying no to Miss Chloe Cormac!"

Dave leaned thoughfully on the palm, jumping at the sound of his elbow hitting the piano keys. Jack rose from his seat with a grin.

"Come on Davey! Let's go over to that pizza joint down the street. It doesn't look like the old bag of bones is going to show today!"

"The old sack of bones will make a brief appearance today, Mr. Kelly."

An omnious voice came from behind Jack, met with a chorus of snickering.

"Mr. Pulitzer! Somebody should buy you a watch! That's exactly eleven minutes of my precious time wasted when I should have been getting an education!"

"Oh Mr. Kelly, somebody should get you some manners, my young man."

The two stared each other down for a few seconds before Jack slowly returned to his seat. Mr. Pulitzer's face broke into a smile (if that's what you would call it--Mr. Pulitzer didn't smile).

"Thank you, Mr. Kelly. Now class, the reason I am eleven minutes late, as your classmate helpfully pointed out, is for a very special reason. As you have probably heard, over the past summer the Brooklyn School of the Performing Arts closed down because of lack of funding. Hence, we held a series of special auditions to admit a few lucky Brooklynites into our institution."

He took a dramatic pause before continuing.

"I bring with me today a special young man from Brooklyn, the pianist and composer prodigy, Mr. Patrick Conlon."

Mr. Pulitzer slowly lumbered out of the doorway, revealing a young man standing behind him. Jack kelly had never in his life seen a more sour looking young man. There was nothing extraordinary about his appearance; average height and build, normal clothes, sandy brown hair that flopped defiantly in his face. It was his eyes that chilled Jack to his very core. He couldn't quite distinguish if they were ice blue or a steely grey, but they held a certain strength and determination that dared every single person in the room to cross him.

"Well, doesn't he seem like a barrel of laughs?!"

David muttered sarcastically to Jack. Patrick's harsh eyes scanned the room.

"They call me Spot."

He scowled, his delicate facial features twisting into a sneer. Jack grinned and leaned over to Dave.

"Woof."

Mr. Pulitzer put his hand protectively on Spot's shoulder, beaming like a proud parent at a dance recital.

"It's an honour to have you with us."

Jack rolled his eyes.

"Gag me with a spoon."

**Meanwhile, In Medda's Office...**

Ginger shuffled uneasily in her chair, arms sternly crossed, eyebrows knitted in silent anger and confusion. She managed a sideways glance at the boy sitting beside her, the boy who very well could've ruined her career before it had even started. She ran her fingers over her hot pink tights.

"Strawberry Shortcake?! What does he know anyway?!?!? I saw Madonna wearing something exactly like this!"

She snuck another peek at him, slouched in his chair, looking bored. Ginger sniffed, shaking her red curls. She had seen his type before, the punks who cared about no one but themselves, and even then they didn't care too much.

"This is all your fault, you know."

Ginger stated childishly, not looking the young man.

"Me?!?! I didn't pull down my own pants!"

"You started it!"

Ginger said wildly, turning to face him. He pulled himself out of the slouch and leaned forward, pointing a finger at Ginger.

"You are a nut case!"

Slightly taken aback, Ginger smiled for the first time during the entire hour they had been sitting there.

"No, I'm an actress."

The boy sighed and leaned back into his seat.

"Whatever."

Ginger paused for a moment. She'd never had many enemies--if you could consider this guy an enemy"

"My name's Ginger."

She offered. The boy eyed her suspiciously.

"My name's Mu--Roger!"

He said hurriedly, turning so he wasn't facing her. Ginger giggled.

"Mu--Roger? Wow, what was your mom drinking..."

This comment hit a nerve with Mush.

"And Ginger's so much better?!"

He snapped. And so, Ginger went back to the stony, thick silence between them.

**And down a dark hallway...**

"Old MacDonald had a farm...eeee i eee i ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Racetrack Higgins sung, doing a makeshift tap-dance down the deserted hallway, sincerely hoping that his Science teacher wasn't missing him too much. That is when the noise started. It sounded somewhat like footprints. Race got the feeling that someone was watching him...

**NO EXIT**

...read the sign that Race stopped in front of.

"Damn, I took a wrong turn."

He thought turning around, jumping with a small yelp at the two looming figures before him.

"What's this, Oscar?"

"Morris, looks like we got ourselves a skipper.."

**_What is this feeling_**

_**There's a strange exhilaration**_

_**In such total detestation**_

**_So pure, so strong_**

**_Though I do admit it came on fast_**

**_Still I do believe that it can last_**

**_And I will be loathing_**

**_For forever loathing_**

**_Truly deeply loathing_**

**_My whole_**

**_Life long!_**

**_Unadulterated loathing_**

A/N: What will happen to Racetrack?! Will Chloe ever catch up with Jack Kelly? And When will Crutchy be introduced, damn it?! All this, and more, will be answered in the next chapter!


End file.
